


familiarity

by stormhund



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Falling In Love, M/M, NO OSAAKA ANGST I SWEAR, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Pining, Unrequited Love, or so they think, then person B falls for them only when person A is no longer interested, think Flipped or Love Rosie, where person A falls first
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-17
Updated: 2020-08-17
Packaged: 2021-03-05 20:54:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,452
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25781689
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stormhund/pseuds/stormhund
Summary: “What do you think is the top consideration when it comes to attraction?”“Physical attraction?" Onaga began. "Emotional attraction? Can you be a little more specific?”Konoha shrugged, leaning back on his hands. “Physically, emotionally–it doesn’t matter. Just attraction as a whole.”“So what is it?” asked Akaashi.–in which bokuto learns all the considerations (and consequences) of falling in love at the wrong time.
Relationships: Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou
Comments: 43
Kudos: 289





	familiarity

**Author's Note:**

> this was supposed to be my contribution for #BokuakaWeek2020 because i genuinely love bokuaka with all my heart, even if most of my ao3 works say otherwise. but then i 1) got a fever, 2) had to prepare for my graduation, and then 3) actually graduated.
> 
> despite the delay, i hope you still enjoy it, though!

Meeting Akaashi felt like being doused in ice cold water.

“I am Akaashi Keiji, from Mori Middle School,” he introduced himself, eyes timid and cheeks still rounded with youth. Even then, his fingers were already fidgeting with themselves, an irreversible habit everyone would one day come to know. “I played setter. Pleased to make your acquaintance.”

Bokuto Koutarou felt like his ears had grown larger than his head. The word _setter_ echoed through the cavern of his mind, even when Akaashi had retreated back into the line of players to allow the other recruits to introduce themselves.

A new setter meant a new companion for his own personal practices. Bokuto no longer had to cajole the third-years into staying with him after hours, just so he could spike a few more tosses with them.

Especially when Akaashi Keiji was a _setter._

Bokuto craned his neck, eyes desperate to get a better glimpse of him.

“You’re going to scare him off,” hissed Konoha under his breath, tugging the sleeve of his shirt. “Stop staring.”

Bokuto opened his mouth to retort, something of a cross between “Piss off” and “Why not?” But beside him, Washio shifted, the toe of his shoe finding the front of Bokuto’s shin. It was probably a warning to stay quiet, a reminder to let their coach finish his obligatory welcome speech before they began their usual antics, but the gesture evoked a little too much force. Bokuto yelled, body curling, as he rubbed at the sore spot from where Washio had hit him.

Everyone swiveled to his direction, and their coach frowned. Bokuto’s ears were beginning to turn pink as he straightened. “I’m very sorry,” he muttered, trying to cough away the radiating pain from his leg.

The team thrummed with an aura of suppressed laughter and whispered musings. Bokuto’s gaze slid involuntarily to where Akaashi was, and he found the first year staring at him with brows furrowed together. When their gazes touched, Akaashi’s eyes widened before he looked away, a blush creeping from his neck.

Bokuto stared at his own feet, hoping that the gesture could pass off as his display of embarrassment when all it really was was a display of his excitement.

✧

Akaashi immediately proved his weight in gold.

Bokuto knew that Akaashi had received a recommendation from Fukurodani for the way he had played in middle school, but a recommendation meant nothing if his skills couldn’t translate on the court. He shouldn’t have worried, though. From the moment their practice began, Bokuto already saw what their coach had seen months before. And when Akaashi had agreed to practice with him after their official club hours ended, Bokuto found his tosses incredibly easy to hit. They were always right where he needed the ball to be, with a careful grace absent from the tosses he was accustomed to.

“Akashi!” he yelled, running up to where the setter was standing with his hands on his knees.

“It’s Akaashi,” he heard the boy huff, shoulders trembling.

Bokuto hardly heard him. He gave Akaashi a pat on the back, beaming with the discovery of Akaashi’s raw abilities. “Your tosses are the best!”

Akaashi looked up. He straightened and used the collar of his shirt to wipe the sweat rolling down his temples. “Ah. Sure.”

Bokuto frowned, resting his hands on his hips. “Could you sound a little more fired up?”

Akaashi only blinked at him. But Bokuto was no fool. He had seen the subtle shift in Akaashi’s demeanor, eyes gleaming with something other than exhaustion, and he could see how his words had won the setter over.

Bokuto smiled again, taking one of Akaashi’s hand in two of his. “We’re going to be the protagonists of the world, Akaashi! No matter what other people may say, that’s what we’ll be!”

Akaashi looked at where their hands were joined. Then he looked back at Bokuto.

And finally, at long last, Akaashi smiled.

✧

Bokuto’s second year at Fukurodani may have passed by in the blink of an eye, but it did not pass by uneventfully.

At club practices, he continued to hone his teamwork and overall chemistry with the rest of the players, determined to be the way of the ace. In the hour after, he continued to hone his personal skills with Akaashi, taking whatever Akaashi gave and making sure the younger boy improved just as much as he did. And during the rest of the time where he had to set aside volleyball for other matters, he continued to hone his friendship with Akaashi, refining their relationship from being mere teammates into something more. Bokuto began to visit him during his breaks, eager to show him several plays they could try on the court. Then he began to visit him simply because, occasionally stealing him away so they could eat lunch together with the rest of the second years.

And maybe it was all the time spent together or maybe it was because Akaashi felt like a drop of cool rain after summer’s heat, but Bokuto only grew bolder and more unabashed when it came to Akaashi. This manifested in the way he regarded him, less formally and more cordially.

“Akaashi,” began Bokuto one Friday night, as both boys made their way home beneath the twilight sky. After their first official practice together, they had found that their houses were just two streets away from one another. It was yet another opportunity that drew them closer. “Are you always this quiet?”

Akaashi gave him a sideways glance. Alone together, he had the liberty of easing into a more expressive look just for Bokuto. “Do you want me to talk more?” he asked, confused. “Does my silence make you uncomfortable, Bokuto-san?”

“No!” Bokuto replied hurriedly. “That’s not what I meant!” He scratched his head, trying to untangle the thoughts that lay there. “I just don’t know if, like, you’re quiet because you’re thinking of homework or you’re quiet because you’ve had a bad day or you’re quiet just because.”

Bokuto did not expect the laugh that bubbled out from Akaashi. It was a pleasant sound, Bokuto thought, not at all like his own thunderous guffaws. “Don’t worry, Bokuto-san. I’m perfectly fine.” He adjusted the straps of his bag, fingers fidgeting together. “You’re the first friend I would run to, if I really was upset.”

 _Friend._ “Really?” Bokuto brightened, the firecracker in his chest akin to the way he used to feel during new year midnights.

“Really.” Akaashi did not smile, but Bokuto knew him well enough by now to recognize that the softness of his expression meant that he almost did.

“Well, you’re also the first friend I’d run to. If I failed a math test or something.”

“You don’t have to make me feel better.”

“I’m not trying to make you feel better!” Bokuto kicked a pebble with the toe of his shoe. “You’re the only person who makes an effort to make _me_ feel better when I’m down.”

Akaashi hummed. “Well, to be fair, we have to do something about your mood swings. It’s very unbecoming of an ace.”

“Akaashi!” huffed Bokuto, but he couldn’t even find it in himself to argue with that. He kicked another stone, watching the gray sphere roll along the smooth asphalt of the road. “So we’re friends?”

Akaashi turned to him, surprised. “We weren’t before?”

“I was just making sure.” Bokuto brightened. “It’s nice to have a friend like you, Akaashi.”

Akaashi looked away, but not before Bokuto saw the gentle upward curve of his lips.

✧

The day Bokuto received his captain’s jersey, he saw the whole world in kaleidoscopic colors.

He knew he would be awarded with the title long before the first day of his third year at Fukurodani Academy began. But to have this knowledge cemented in black and white and gold cloth, to have it confirmed with the striped underline beneath the number four staring up at him–it made him feel effervescent.

“I’m so happy!” he whispered to his third years. He hugged the jersey to his chest, watching the world around him move in liquid pools of pinks and yellows and oranges. “I’m so happy everything looks different!”

Komi, who was sitting to his left, patted his back. “Congratulations, Bo! I expected nothing less from our ace.”

Bokuto was still vibrating with his joy, colors undulating before him, when their coach moved to call the vice captain next. Bokuto tore his eyes away from his jersey long enough to see Akaashi stand and humbly accept his new attire.

Akaashi was the only thing painted with the colors of normalcy: his skin was fair and peach, his hair was curled and black, his eyes were bright and green. When Akaashi folded his legs to reclaim his place beside Bokuto, Bokuto shifted and bumped their shoulders together. “Hey, vice captain.”

Akaashi turned. The bright bursts of color hovered around him, as if their light held no match against his. He smiled, eyes crinkling at the corners. “Captain.”

When Bokuto slung his arm over Akaashi’s shoulders, he found that his own arm retained their standard hues. It did not turn silver, the way Konoha’s did, nor did it turn gold, the way Sarukui’s had.

He was painfully, surprisingly ordinary.

Somehow, it bothered Bokuto less than it should have. Ordinary he may be, but even now, he and Akaashi were set apart from the rest. Even now, they were different.

Bokuto closed his eyes and tilted his chin to the ceiling.

No matter what other people may say, they _were_ the protagonists of the world.

✧

Sometimes Bokuto wished Akaashi had been in the same year as he. Akaashi was already more mature than any of them to begin with (which was why Bokuto and the rest of the third years had put in their vote of confidence in making him the vice captain), and Akaashi was already more of his best friend than anyone else ever was.

But sometimes, he had no use for wishes. Sometimes, Bokuto was content to have things exactly as they were.

One of these moments happened on a cool Saturday morning, right on the brink of autumn. The Fukurodani men’s volleyball club had just wrapped up their practice for the day and were lazing around on the court, stretches forgotten the moment their coach bid them farewell.

Bokuto was sitting beside Akaashi, their backs resting against one another, when Konoha set down the tablet he was holding and popped his earphones free. Without an ounce of hesitation, he asked, “What do you think is the top consideration when it comes to attraction?”

Everyone in the gymnasium swiveled to Konoha’s direction. He stared back at all of them steadily, circling his earphones’ wires into a neat loop before tucking it in the pocket of his shorts.

“Is this about Suzumeda-san again?” asked Komi. He wiggled his eyebrows and leaned closer. “Shooting your shot this last year, aren’t we?”

“This isn’t about her,” protested Konoha, even as his cheeks turned pink. “Can you just answer the damn question?”

“Physical attraction?” Onaga began. The first year was already a regular on the roster, but he was still eager to impress his senpais. “Emotional attraction? Can you be a little more specific?”

Konoha shrugged, leaning back on his hands and setting the tablet behind him. “Physically, emotionally–it doesn’t matter. Just attraction as a whole.”

“Hold on,” piped up Sarukui, raising a hand. “I’m still reviewing the traits of everyone I’ve ever liked.”

“Personality,” answered Washio immediately, chest puffing out in confidence.

“Which part of their personality?” countered Komi with a frown. “That’s so vague.”

The team erupted into their own debates, one conversation rising above the other in an attempt to be heard. Bokuto did not join the fray, choosing instead to look over his shoulder. He wished he could see Akaashi’s expression, as he was the only other boy who had remained silent thus far. He bumped his shoulder playfully. “What do _you_ think?”

Akaashi shifted a little. Their noses were almost touching. “I don’t know,” he said honestly. “I’m still thinking too.”

“So you’ve liked someone before?” teased Bokuto. “Akaashi! You never told me!”

Akaashi rolled his eyes. “Haven’t we all liked someone?”

Bokuto hummed. He found a lot of girls beautiful, sure, but he was never exactly attracted to any of them. They were pretty to his eyes, but not enticing enough to think about for days on end.

“Nope,” he said simply. “Haven’t really liked someone that way.”

“Ah.” Akaashi turned away, eyes taking in their disjointed circle of arguments. He cleared his throat, and everyone paused momentarily to listen to him say, “So what is it?”

Konoha grinned, pleased to have someone take the bait. His eyes were gleaming as he announced, “Familiarity.”

“Why do you sound so smug about it?” Sarukui scowled.

“Familiarity,” repeated Akaashi.

“I was surprised too,” continued Konoha. “But I was watching this Netflix documentary, and they conducted several experiments that all point to it.” He looked to Bokuto then. “You are more bound to fall for someone who is within your own circle of proximity.”

Bokuto pointed to himself. “Why are you looking at _me_ when you say that? Do you have a crush on me?”

“He’s just announcing to everyone how he thinks Suzumeda-san may actually fall for him this time,” said Sarukui.

“I don’t _think_ that; I _know_ it!”

From the corner of his eye, Bokuto saw Akaashi flick a speck of dust from his knees. “I digress.”

“What’s ‘digress’?” asked Bokuto.

“He disagrees, is what he’s saying,” explained Washio.

“Oh.” Bokuto frowned, turning. “You do?”

Akaashi’s lips curled in contemplation. “On second thought,” he began slowly, “I don’t. Not really.”

Bokuto cocked his head to the side, attempting to decipher the expression Akaashi wore. But, for the first time since they’ve known one another, Akaashi’s face was carefully tilted away from his view, almost as if he didn’t want to be perceived.

 _Strange,_ thought Bokuto. _What a completely_ unfamiliar _thing of Akaashi to do._

“Are you okay, Akaashi?” he whispered, once the rest of the team took up a new conversation.

“Yeah,” said the younger boy softly.

Bokuto considered reaching for him but decided against the idea. He nudged him instead. “Hey. You can tell me anything. We’re friends after all, aren’t we?”

“Of course,” Akaashi repeated with a nod. Still, he did not turn when he added, “Friends.”

Bokuto did not know why Akaashi sounded so disappointed about that. But before he could probe further, Konoha rallied the team for a three-on-three scrimmage, and Bokuto forgot about Akaashi’s strange behavior entirely.

He needed to, if he wanted things to remain exactly as they were.

✧

On the day of the third years’ graduation, after the official rites had ended and everyone had gone their separate ways, Bokuto and Akaashi remained in the parking lot of Fukurodani Academy. They sat on one of the concrete benches, right beneath the shade of a gingko tree, and shared their favorite meals and favorite memories together. Two bento boxes were spread between them, both of which were steadily devoured in between snippets of reminiscing.

It had been Bokuto’s idea, to spend his final day at Fukurodani with the one person he loved most. They used to do this anyway, whenever either of them had a particular bad day and needed some release of emotions. Now that he was at the finish line of his high school years, it seemed fitting to end it on the call back of some of his favorite memories.

“Remember when I pressed the fire alarm?” asked Bokuto now, cheeks bloated with rice. “I thought I was going to get suspended for that!”

“I’m the only reason you didn’t get suspended,” pointed out Akaashi in exasperation, even as a smile teased his expression. “I spent all I knew about flattery on our principal and on our coach.”

Bokuto laughed. “Oho? So you think you’re an expert at flattery now?”

“I know I am.”

“Then how come you never compliment me?” Bokuto grabbed Akaashi’s arm and shook it in protestation. “You’re always praising Konoha and the rest, but you never say anything about _my_ spikes! How unfair!”

“Stop,” chuckled Akaashi, gently peeling Bokuto away from him, but Bokuto only held on tighter. “You do know what I think about you, right?”

“I do not!” replied Bokuto. And as the words escaped his thoughts, he realized that it was true. He knew the big things (like how Akaashi favored Bokuto over anyone else in Fukurodani, a fact that was as well known as Bokuto’s reputation) and he knew the more discreet ones (like how Akaashi had chosen Fukurodani because he had been amazed at how Bokuto had played during one game during his first year).

But what Akaashi thought of Bokuto as a whole? That was a mystery to him.

Akaashi seemed to come to the same conclusion. He looked down at where his own fingers were still wrapped around Bokuto’s hand. Bokuto followed his gaze just as Akaashi let go, the surface of Bokuto’s hand immediately turning cold without his partner’s warmth. Bokuto furrowed his brows before he too let him go.

“Well,” began Akaashi, clearing his throat. “Well, I think you’re pretty neat.”

Bokuto snorted. “Lame! You call yourself a mastery of flattery with that?”

Akaashi glared at him. “Compliments require careful deliberation, and I’m still thinking.” His fingers found themselves, twisting and turning one another just as his own gears shifted in his mind. When Akaashi spoke again, Bokuto leaned forward as if being closer to him would help him absorb all his words even more.

“I think you’re pretty neat for a lot of reasons,” said Akaashi, emerald eyes flitting back and forth from Bokuto and his hands. “It’s all the nights you’d stay up, just to borrow a few more minutes of conversation with me. It’s the first time I’ve felt important in someone’s eyes, like I was worth more than their time. It’s our open honesty, the undiluted trust we place in one another. It’s the first time I’ve felt what it is to bare myself to someone else without feeling ashamed of who I am. It’s the way we talk, the easy conversations of sweet nothings and the easy resolutions of miscommunications. It’s the first time I’ve felt how life would be if only we spoke in the language of love of the other.”

Akaashi paused, swallowing. “That is what I think of you. I think of you as my teammate, my best friend, my partner. And I think of you periodically, often, all the time.”

Bokuto stared at Akaashi, drawing out the quiet between them. “Akaashi,” he finally breathed. “That was _beautiful._ ”

Akaashi smiled. “Told you I was good. It’s all the poetry I read on the side.” Before Bokuto could press further, Akaashi turned away momentarily, reaching into his bag. When he straightened, he had a little wooden box in the cup of both his hands, the present tied with a satin ribbon that bore a note with Bokuto’s name. He held it forward and bowed. “Please accept this gift, Bokuto-san.”

Bokuto widened his eyes. Something between them was on the cusp of shifting, and even he could feel how thick the air had grown between them. His fingers shook slightly as he reached out and accepted the present. “Can I open it now?” His voice was uncharacteristically mild and sober.

Akaashi tucked his hands behind his back, but Bokuto knew it was only so to hide the anxious dance of his fingers. “Sure.”

Bokuto grinned, even as he himself remained nervous. He began to pick apart the present piece by piece, unfurling the string with tender care before opening the lid. Then he parted the crumpled wax paper inside until he saw the item.

“Akaashi!” Bokuto hooked his finger over the silver ring of the keychain and held it up to the light. A plastic owl the color of snow and ash stared up at him, wings spread behind him as it froze mid-flight. Its eyes shone with liquid fire, though it looked less menacing and more encouraging than anything. “Wow. It even looks like me!”

Akaashi smiled, some of the tension in his shoulder easing. “Do you like it? I had it made specially for you.”

“Like it? I love it!” Bokuto was already replacing the keychain back into the box when he saw a piece of folded parchment resting on the bottom of the case. Bokuto picked it up curiously, unfolding its four corners. “And what’s this?”

Akaashi said nothing. He merely watched as Bokuto revealed the whole expanse of the note, eyes drinking in the words scrawled across the page:

_For everything you are, everything you aren’t, and everything you’re yet to be:_

_I love you, I love you, I love you._

“And that,” said Akaashi finally, voice more timid, more uncertain, more meek than anything Bokuto had ever heard, “is what I think of you above all.”

Bokuto sucked in a sharp breath. It was a confession in blue ink, written with the unmistakable curve of Akaashi’s handwriting. It was a confirmation of his most feared assumptions, of everything he had been trying to deny up until this moment.

“Oh.”

It was just one phrase, barely a word in and of itself, but Bokuto already knew he had said too much. Akaashi’s expression of hope immediately shattered, and he reared back as far as possible from Bokuto. “Ah.”

How could two people say so little and yet mean so much?

Akaashi’s face was bowed as he stared at the food between them, nearly finished. Bokuto caught up to his train of thought just as Akaashi stood to his feet. “I should go,” he whispered, voice bearing the shredded pieces of his pride.

Bokuto was frozen in place as he watched Akaashi close the lid over his bento and throw his empty juice box atop of it. He watched Akaashi sling his bag over his shoulders. He watched Akaashi attempt a smile before he turned away to hide the sheen of tears.

“Congratulations again, Bokuto-san. I’m going to miss you the most.”

Bokuto licked his lips, the box in one hand and the note in the other. “Akaashi?” he tried, unsure why he couldn’t make up his mind on whether he should stay or go and console his friend.

But that was exactly the problem, realized Bokuto. Akaashi was just a friend to him. A best friend, sure, but still a friend. And Bokuto was more than that to Akaashi.

Akaashi gave one last wave before he carried his boxes, discarded them in the nearest bin, and left.

Bokuto wished he could alleviate the heart breaking on Akaashi’s sleeve. He wished he could say something or feel something or be something that lived up to Akaashi’s expectations. But he can’t say something he didn’t mean, can’t feel something he doesn’t, can’t be something he isn’t.

He valued Akaashi’s friendship too much to let anything more get in the way.

✧

 **Bokuto Koutarou**  
Akaashi? [9:00PM]  
Did you get home safely? [9:01PM]

 **WORLD!**  
I did. [9:13PM]  
I was home since 2:00PM. [9:14PM]

~~**Bokuto Koutarou**  
I’m sorry for [Drafted 9:18PM]~~

**WORLD!**  
I’m sorry for what happened earlier. [9:20PM]  
Can we just forget about it? [9:21PM]  
Can we still be friends? [9:23PM]

 **Bokuto Koutarou**  
(◕‿◕) [9:23PM]  
Nothing will keep our friendship apart, Akaashi!! [9:24PM]  
You will always be my best friend. [9:25PM]  
No matter what. [9:26PM]

 **WORLD!**  
:) [9:27PM]

 **WORLD!**  
I’m very glad to hear that. [9:40PM]

✧

Despite Bokuto’s silent rejection of his friend’s affections, Bokuto stayed true to his word and the two of them remained close.

Bokuto was as chatty as ever, if not more. He needed to fill the awkwardness between them with updates of his life, and thankfully there were many to be found.

He told Akaashi of how he spent his days, now that he was an official graduate of Fukurodani: he kept up his early morning jogs, sustained all his strength and conditioning training, and maintained his healthy diet. He scoured through the V-league’s teams, weighing the pros and cons of each one, before finally deciding to shoot his shot for the MSBY Black Jackals.

“Why the Jackals?” asked Akaashi now. Bokuto’s phone was propped up against the headboard of his bed as he scanned through the documents and requirements needed to apply for the team. On his screen, Akaashi was bent over his desk, preoccupied with writing essays for his university applications.

This was how they spent most of their summer nights: in a video call with one another, talking about what steps they were taking to secure their future, doing everything they could to make their talents bloom. Bokuto had been the one to initiate the calls, and he was relieved when Akaashi took it in stride and did not make a big deal of it.

“They’re strong,” replied Bokuto simply, looking away from his laptop to smile at Akaashi’s camera. “And they seem cool!”

“Ushijima Wakatoshi is rumored to try for the Schweiden Adlers. He’s strong, too.”

“Eh. He’s just one man. It’s the team that wins games.”

Akaashi paused from his writing, looking at Bokuto. Then he leaned back against his seat, rubbing his hands over his face. “Bokuto-san, do you regret what happened at nationals?”

Bokuto dropped whatever he was doing, surprised. He turned his full attention on Akaashi, folding his arms together and resting his chin against them. “No. Do you think I do?”

“I don’t know. We didn’t win on your last year.”

Bokuto laughed. Akaashi must be thinking of that January night where Bokuto had promised the both of them that they were going to win it all. “I mean, sure, I was sad! Who wouldn’t be?” He shrugged. “We made it to second place, though. And losing once doesn’t guarantee that you’ll never win again, you know?”

Akaashi’s expression wrinkled before his features smoothed into a smile. “You’re right.”

“Do _you_ regret what happened?”

Akaashi tapped his pen against the desk. “A little. If I’d only caught that ball, maybe we could’ve won. But I try not to have any regrets. There’s no use in holding on to something you can’t change.”

Bokuto brightened. “Akaashi! You’re always so wise.”

“Sure.”

Akaashi turned back to writing his essays. Bokuto knew he should do the same, knew that he should cease in dallying the work still left for him. Instead, he remained folded against the bed, watching the boy with green eyes work from the other side of the screen. He admired the way Akaashi’s desk lamp made him look almost ethereal, half his body acquainted with the shadows while the other walked in the light. He admired the way the muscles in his forearms ticked in time to the movements of his hand, the way those long and nimble fingers held the stem of the pen, the way several strands of his dark hair fell across his brows.

He memorized it all, burning the image of Akaashi in his mind until it’s all he could see.

“I miss you,” confessed Bokuto. He regretted it almost immediately. It wasn’t strange for him to say such things out of the blue, it was the _way_ he said it: voice soft, sincere, dripping with something far too familiar for two friends.

Akaashi’s hand stuttered, though he did not pause in his writing. He didn’t look up from his essay as he ventured, “The team?”

“Well, yes,” amended Bokuto with a nervous laugh. He busied himself with pulling the loose threads of his pillow. “But you, most of all.”

“Bokuto-san, we can still see each other, you know.” Akaashi’s expression and tone were carefully neutral. “We live two streets away.”

“I know, but–” Bokuto buried half of his face against his pillow. “But I’m busy with finalizing everything I need to make it to the Black Jackals, and you’re busy with your own thing. Third year at Fukurodani and all of those university applications. I don’t know.” He straightened, rearranging himself so that he sat with his legs folded beneath him instead. “I guess everything’s just changing a little too fast.”

Akaashi’s expression softened. This time, he did look up and stare at the pixelated version of Bokuto from his own screen. “You know I’m here for you.”

“I know.” Bokuto smiled. “You’ve always been the one thing I can count on for stability.”

Akaashi’s lips twitched, and Bokuto couldn’t determine whether it was meant to be a smile or a frown. Still, there was something almost wistful about him. “So I’m familiar?”

Bokuto frowned. Familiarity. Was that it? Konoha had said something once before about it, something about the laws of attraction and the pull of familiarity running perpendicular to one another. But it seemed far too small a word to encompass what Akaashi meant to him. Akaashi was the ground beneath his feet, the new-pressed sheets he came home to at the end of the day, the tower of light that beckoned everyone to safety.

“I think,” said Bokuto, “you’re home.”

The mic of Akaashi’s phone caught the way he sucked in a breath, sharp and sudden, like a vacuum come to steal everything away. Akaashi licked his lips, fingers pressing against the hardwood of his desk. “I have to go.”

Bokuto startled. “Wait, already?”

Akaashi was already taking several more leaves of paper from the organizer beside him. “I need to focus.”

“Oh.” Bokuto was nodding a little too enthusiastically. “Sure, sure. Right. Focus. Gotta focus on your essays.”

Akaashi nodded. “Yeah.” He tucked a strand of his hair behind his ear. “Well, good night, Bokuto-san. Sleep well.”

He didn’t even let him say it back. The screen turned black, and Bokuto was left staring at his own reflection on the screen. He looked exactly as confused as he felt.

They were just friends, thought Bokuto. They were just the best of friends, two stars who learned to dance with one another, two souls who learned the language of the other.

Friends.

Suddenly, Bokuto _hated_ that word.

✧

He dreamt of Akaashi that night. And the night after that. And the night after that.

Bokuto couldn’t even remember everything that had transpired. All he knew was that he went to sleep dreaming of him and woke up thinking of him. He saw Akaashi when he closed his eyes, and he saw Akaashi when he opened them. He saw Akaashi in the gentle curve of a stranger’s smile, in the light emerald tones of the trees down his street, in the kindness of the summer breeze.

Bokuto was on the verge of realizing something new, and the knowledge that whatever it was lay at the tip of his tongue kept him up sometimes. He buried himself beneath his cotton sheets and thoughts, trying to decipher why he felt the way he did.

The strange goodbye Akaashi had left him one night past was soon forgotten, and they resumed their normal routine of conversing through a screen. But Bokuto could no longer see him in the same light. To him, everything Akaashi did was enchanting. He could do something as simple as spin a pen between his fingers, and he would be captivated by the way his joints moved. He could do something as mundane as pull his tongue between his teeth, and Bokuto would be entranced by the thought of sliding his own lips against his.

It was that last thought that sent his hand crashing against his forehead, hours after they had both parted ways from their nightly call. Bokuto almost felt like he was coming down with a fever. How dare he think of Akaashi _that_ way? It almost felt like a sin, to want something more than what he had already been given.

But he continued to think of Akaashi until he fell headfirst into a restless slumber. And when his phone finally heralded the dawn of a new morning, urging him to roll out of bed and begin his daily morning jog, Bokuto snoozed the alarm, reached for his device–and paused.

Since their victory (or defeat) on the national stage, Bokuto had changed the wallpaper of his lockscreen into a candid picture of the Fukurodani volleyball club. On most days, like this, more than half of the team’s features were obscured by the wall of notifications on the forefront of the screen. Yet no matter how much those alerts grew, Akaashi’s placement in the picture always allowed Bokuto to see him.

He looked at the sprightly form of Akaashi raising his silver medal in the air, a smile hiding behind the numbers of the time. Then Bokuto sat up suddenly, the movement quick enough to draw a few seconds of vertigo into his senses.

Because that was it, he realized. Bokuto had always looked to Akaashi first. More than the time, more than his string of messages, more than the notifications on his screen, it was always, always, always Akaashi that came first.

He held his head in his hands and sighed. He didn’t know how he could have been so blind not to have seen it before.

✧

From that moment on, Bokuto learned poetry and prose.

He learned the structural differences of haikus and limericks, the contextual differences of odes and epics, the technical definitions of stanzas and verses. He memorized them all by heart and then decided to throw all the rules to the wind in favor of free prose. He did his best to write what he felt, but his first attempts were a conglomerate of over exaggeration and underwhelming musings.

But he wanted to do better. He wanted to _be_ better, if only to reciprocate the love Akaashi had freely given.

He would not settle until he had the best response to Akaashi’s confession.

✧

_Attempt #1 by Bokuto Koutarou_

_I see you in my dreams._

_You and I lay down side by side, watching the clouds pass over our heads and listening to the way the trees sing to one another. I look to you the way I always have: like you are a star bright enough to rival the light of the sun._

_You tell me that the sun is also a star. I tell you that science knows no rules, not when we are toeing the line between sleep and consciousness._

_You laugh, and I am left drunk on the sounds that pass through your lips._

_You say my name, and I am left in pieces._

✧

Two days after Bokuto’s tryouts with the Black Jackals, he found out that the Fukurodani men’s volleyball club had a practice match scheduled in the gymnasium.

He had been doing his cooldown stretches after his morning jog when he saw Onaga’s tweet about it. Bokuto had been too tired from his trip from Osaka the night before to properly converse with Akaashi, let alone check his social media accounts. But he scrolled through Onaga’s profile now, brows rising as he found out who they were up against.

He couldn’t resist sending a text to Akaashi immediately.

 **Bokuto Koutarou**  
You have a practice match this morning? ヽ(°〇°)ﾉ [6:04AM]

 **WORLD!**  
Yeah. [6:10AM]  
Sorry I didn’t get to tell you. [6:11AM]

 **Bokuto Koutarou**  
Whoa! You’re up early! [6:15AM]  
And don’t apologize! You don’t owe me anything. [6:16AM]  
But INARIZAKI?? THE INARIZAKI HIGH SCHOOL?? [6:18AM]  
They’re a long way from home!! [6:19AM]

 **WORLD!**  
I know, right? [6:20AM]  
That’s what I told their vice-captain. [6:22AM]  
But he insisted, said that the only way they can come out as champions this year is to play against the team that almost became one. [6:26AM]

 **Bokuto Koutarou**  
Ouch. [6:27AM]  
I mean, he’s not wrong, though. [6:27AM]  
Wait, what happened to their captain?? [6:28AM]

 **WORLD!**  
Atsumu-san just doesn’t want to deal with the logistics of being one, apparently. [6:30AM]

 **Bokuto Koutarou**  
WAHAHA!! Is that even allowed?? [6:32AM]  
Anyway, can I watch the game? °˖✧◝(⁰▿⁰)◜✧˖° [6:34AM]

 **WORLD!**  
Sure. [6:36AM]  
I would love that, actually. :) [6:38AM]

Smiling to himself, Bokuto got up and prepared himself to support the Fukurodani owls against the Inarizaki foxes.

It was also an excellent excuse to see Akaashi anyway.

✧

But something was definitely different about Akaashi.

When Bokuto had arrived on the court earlier, his former teammates swarming him and burying him in tight embraces, the first thing he noticed was that Akaashi was the only one set apart, his back turned to him as he conversed with Inarizaki’s vice captain. He understood, of course. Being the captain of a team meant that you needed to engage in the diplomacy of meeting the opposing team, and Akaashi was well-versed in that aspect.

When Bokuto had finally stolen Akaashi away and then settled on the benches to watch their practice match, he noticed that Akaashi was paying extra attention to Inarizaki. He understood, of course. Being the opponent of a powerful team meant that you needed to keep your guard up, lest they snatch the lead out from under you, and Akaashi was a champion in that aspect.

When Bokuto had stood up, hands clapping and voice rising to cheer for his winning team, he noticed Akaashi exchanging banter with Miya Osamu, both of them standing on opposite sides of the net. He understood, of course. Being the winner of a game meant that you had the urge to gloat that achievement over the losing side, and Akaashi–

Akaashi was definitely not one to do such a thing.

After Inarizaki had wrapped up their belongings, bid them farewell, and left on their own bus, Bokuto finally jogged over to Akaashi. He threw his arm over his shoulders, sliding him flush against his side. “Congratulations, captain! That was a good game!”

Akaashi tilted his face up, beaming at Bokuto. “You think so? They almost had us in the last set.”

“Yeah, but you held your ground!”

They made their way to where Akaashi had left his water bottle and towel. Akaashi wiped the sweat from his face, and Bokuto sat on the bench, pointing his toes to the sky.

“So,” he began, knocking his shoes together, “you’re close with their wing spiker?”

“Osamu?” Akaashi looked down at him from beneath his towel. He closed his eyes and continued to dry himself. “We’re acquainted. He’s the vice captain.”

“I know.” Bokuto watched Akaashi drop his towel and exchange it for his phone. He craned his neck forward, trying to see Akaashi’s screen. He felt his heart freezing in his chest when he realized who he was texting. “Acquaintance, huh?”

“Yep.” Akaashi continued to type.

Bokuto was not a fan of the way he felt right now. There was a fire that burned beneath his skin, and he wanted to let it out on the source. “I wonder when that _acquaintance_ will turn into a crush.”

It was the wrong thing to say, and Bokuto knew it. Akaashi immediately turned his phone away, whirling around to face Bokuto. His eyes were blazing with more fury than Bokuto ever knew. “That’s insensitive, coming from _you._ ”

Bokuto retreated from the intensity of his gaze. It was enough to ground Bokuto back to humility, to shame. He reached forward. “Akaashi–”

Akaashi slapped his hand away, his frown creating harsh angles across his features. “If you’ll excuse me, Bokuto-san, I have to go back to _my_ team. You should go back to yours.”

Akaashi swiped the rest of his belongings before turning on his heel, refusing to look back as he left Bokuto stewing in his own guilt.

✧

 **Bokuto Koutarou**  
I’m sorry. [9:59PM]  
I knew what I was doing. [10:00PM]  
I’m an ass for it. [10:01PM]

 **WORLD!**  
It’s fine. I’m sorry too. [10:05PM]

 **Bokuto Koutarou**  
I just didn’t know how to tell you. [10:10PM]

 **WORLD!**  
Tell me what? [10:11PM]

 **Bokuto Koutarou**  
~~That I like you too. [Drafted 10:10PM]~~  
~~That I was jealous, I think??? [Drafted 10:12PM]~~  
That you are already a better captain than I ever was. [10:13PM]

 **WORLD!**  
That’s not true. [10:14PM]  
But thank you. [10:14PM]  
I miss you, though. [10:17PM]  
I mean, having you around. [10:17PM]  
Anyway, it’s getting late, Bokuto-san. We should both get some rest. [10:22PM]

 **Bokuto Koutarou**  
We should. [10:24PM]  
Good night. [10:24PM]  
Captain Akaashi!!! (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧ [10:25PM]

 **WORLD!**  
:) [10:26PM]  
Good night, Bokuto-san. [10:26PM]

✧

_Attempt #2 by Bokuto Koutarou_

_I see you in my dreams again._

_You and I lay down side by side, watching the clouds pass over our heads and listening to the way the trees sing to one another. I am telling you a story of days past where the glory of our victories outshone everything around us until it is the only halo we could see._

_You tell me that you saw me first. I tell you that it doesn’t matter, not when we are dancing along the edge of naming this unspoken thing between us._

_You smile, and I am left wondering if what I feel for you is the emotion the poets have warned us about._

_You say my name, and I am left wanting for more._

✧

On the day Bokuto received confirmation that he had gotten in the MSBY Black Jackals, he asked Akaashi out on a date.

Well, at least it was a date in his eyes. In actuality, he had simply texted Akaashi the good news and asked if he wanted to celebrate with him by getting milk tea. He still didn’t know how to properly approach the topic of his affections, not when it concerned Akaashi.

But all his hopes soon withered when, right from the beginning of their supposed date, Akaashi was constantly distracted by messages on his phone.

Bokuto knew better than to pry this time. And he was too elated with the news of becoming an official member of the Black Jackals that Akaashi’s divided attention didn’t bother him all that much. It was Akaashi who broached his behavior, right after they had received their drinks and had taken their seats in an empty table of the café.

“I’m sorry,” apologized Akaashi, pocketing his device and poking a hole through his drink. “I was just taking care of something; I hope you didn’t mind too much. I _am_ very happy for you, Bokuto-san.”

“I don’t mind!” Bokuto began sipping from his own drink, pearls filling the space of his mouth. “Captain duties?”

“Kind of.” Akaashi smiled and then looked away. “I was talking to Osamu again.”

And just like that, Bokuto’s cheer plummeted several floors down. He carefully chewed the sinkers in his mouth, eyes appraising Akaashi. There was a slight tinge to his cheeks, just a few shades more red than the rest of his complexion. There was a bashful tilt to his lips, just a few curves softer than his usual passive expression. And there was an undeniable sheen in his eyes, just a few degrees of distraction more than his usual look.

“You like him?” It hadn’t meant to sound like a question, but Bokuto couldn’t bring himself to say it like a statement.

Akaashi startled before he continued to sip his boba tea. “It’s nothing serious.”

“But it _is_ something.”

Akaashi shrugged, stirring his plastic straw and watching the black pearls of his milk tea whirl in a liquid tornado. “It’s just a crush.”

Bokuto’s fingers were growing cold against the perspiration of his drink. The words felt like a slap to the face, a reminder of when he had teased Akaashi about it. “Does he know?”

“No.”

“Do you have plans on letting him know?”

“No.” Akaashi took a long sip, accumulating pearls in his mouth. As he chewed, he added, “It’s not a risk worth taking yet.”

 _Yet,_ thought Bokuto. Then he realized, _So was he expecting me to say I liked him too when he confessed to me then?_

He said none of his musings, choosing instead to push aside his insecurities and remain on the topic at hand. “Since when?”

Akaashi shrugged. “I’m not sure.”

 _What does he have that I don’t?_ Bokuto wanted to ask. But he knew that wasn’t a fair demand from someone he had rejected once before. Akaashi must have spent a lot of time and effort to nurse his wounded pride, and Bokuto would not undo all of those with his personal feelings.

He had his chance to make Akaashi his and he didn’t. It was as simple as that.

“Oh,” said Bokuto.

It was just one phrase, barely a word in and of itself, but he already knew he had said too little. He wanted to say more, to follow it up with something more coherent and less of a breath being let go.

But that was everything he had to offer.

Bokuto finally began drinking the milk tea in his grasp, hoping the sweetness of the drink could wash the acrid taste of jealousy and disappointment in his mouth.

✧

Even though Bokuto was now a starting player in the MSBY Black Jackals’s roster, he still moved around the pieces of his time until he managed to squeeze the annual nationals tournament into his schedule. He was not selfish enough to abstain from such an event, all because his heart was falling apart at the seams.

As soon as he arrived at the gymnasium (making sure that Fukurodani was playing in the center court and not in the sub-arena), he quietly slipped into an empty seat on the side cheering for Fukurodani. They were up against some high school from the Iwate prefecture, one Bokuto had never heard before. Though he knew none of their stats and none of their players, Bokuto had full confidence in Akaashi’s team.

Confidence that was soon proven on the court when Fukurodani won in two sets.

Bokuto clapped along with the audience, though he did not stay long once the players lined up again to congratulate one another. Instead, he immediately went to where he knew the team would be, hoping to catch them before they retired into their hotel for the day.

Amongst the crowd, he fought against the tidal wave of guests and players alike, especially once he saw a familiar flash of white and gold. He nearly called out Akaashi’s name, desperate to let him know that he was here and that he had seen the whole of his game.

Until he saw another mop of gray hair that was distinctively, unmistakably darker and definitely not his.

Bokuto ducked behind the nearest pillar, his heart on overdrive. He wasn’t even sure why he was acting this way. He had seen Miya Osamu–and what about it? That only meant that the rest of Inarizaki were close by, and that they were probably packing up from the day’s events.

Intuition told him otherwise.

Bokuto peered around the pillar, eyes latching onto them almost immediately. Akaashi and Osamu stood side by side, their gazes directed to the tall glass windows that streamed in the afternoon light. They were alone, with none of their teams anywhere within their vicinity. Both of them refused to look at the other, though their bodies were huddled startlingly close for such an empty space.

“Ya played well, Fukurodani setter,” said Osamu, eyes fixated on a point in the horizon. His gaze flickered to Akaashi’s, the gesture so swift that Bokuto would have missed it if he had blinked.

Akaashi hummed. “So have you.”

“Wanna grab somethin’ to eat later?” Osamu’s lips curled teasingly, a splitting image of the fox their school represented so well. “Winner’s treat.”

“Yours or mine?”

“Mine, of course.” This time, Osamu turned and broke through the bubble of Akaashi’s personal space. “In the end, I’ll still come out on top anyway.”

Bokuto wanted to close his eyes. He wanted to keep them open. He wanted to stop listening. He wanted to keep on eavesdropping. And in his indecision, he saw Akaashi tilt his head and say in return, “I’d like to see you try.”

Bokuto did not stay after that. He peeled himself from the cement of the pillar, burying his trembling hands in the pockets of his jacket. But as he hurried to get away, he tripped on his own feet, body crashing down against the cold floor of the stadium. Everyone around him turned, eyes wide with concern, as he hissed from the impact of his fall.

Everyone including Akaashi and Osamu.

“This is so embarrassing,” Bokuto said through gritted teeth, through the watery sheen in his eyes. He picked himself back up, uncaring whether his knees throbbed with the fresh bruises, and briskly walked towards the gates.

“Bokuto-san!”

Bokuto tucked his head deeper into his jacket, as if it could conceal him completely from view. Still, his feet stopped of their own accord, soled shoes digging into the unyielding surface. He turned just as Akaashi caught up to him, eyes wide with pure surprise and delight. “You’re here,” he said, expression soft, the one that promised a smile with just a little more nudge. “You made it.”

“Of course!” Bokuto rubbed the back of his neck. “I watched your game from start to end. You were amazing, Akaashi. As always.”

Akaashi beamed, and all Bokuto could think was how he wanted that smile to be directed at him, forever and always.

“You should have told me,” Akaashi continued. “Or said hello at the very least.”

“Well, you seemed preoccupied.”

It hadn’t meant to sound bitter. It was supposed to sound matter-of-fact. But Bokuto was terrible at hiding his emotions; he always had been. He was not Akaashi, who could afford to let the truest of his thoughts trickle through only during the direst of times.

And Akaashi, being Akaashi, heard the sting of his words immediately.

His expression darkened, joy turning to irritation in one fell swoop. “What is _that_ supposed to mean?”

Bokuto cringed. He had never seen Akaashi like this, like a cloud had come and eclipsed all other emotions. All of Bokuto’s frustrations burned, leaving only the ashes of his shame and despair.

“Can I ask you something?” he blurted out. “You don’t have to answer it, though.”

Akaashi appraised him with his eyes, leaving no stone unturned. “Anything, Bokuto-san,” he finally said, voice still low with the sharp edge of a knife.

Bokuto was suddenly very interested in the design of his shoes. “If, hypothetically, I had said something when I graduated; if, hypothetically, you had been sure of how I felt about you–” With a deep breath, he looked at Akaashi and voiced the questions that had haunted his thoughts, “What would have become of us? Would you have chosen me?”

Akaashi’s lips had thinned into a straight line. There was no tick of his jaw, no furrow of his brows, no indication that gave away what he thought or felt about Bokuto’s honesty. His hands made to join one another before Akaashi forced them back to his sides, the only telltale sign that his thoughts were running at a hundred miles a second.

“Of course.” The timbre of his voice did not waver, but the way he said it sounded like glass fracturing. “And I did. I did choose you.”

Bokuto bit his lip. “Because of familiarity?”

“Because you were all I ever wanted.” Akaashi allowed himself to clasp his hands together, as if in prayer or plea. “So you harbored feelings for me then?”

Bokuto swallowed. “Not _then._ ”

Akaashi blinked. Then he looked away, understanding dawning on his features. “Ah. I don’t know what you want me to say.”

_I want you to say that you still feel the same. I want you to say that I’m still the one on your mind. I want you to say that you waited for me to realize the state of my own heart._

_I want you, I want you, I want you._

Bokuto took a step back. “You don’t have to say anything you don’t mean.” He smiled, but the edges of his expression were crumbling. He took another step back. “I just needed you to know.”

Before Akaashi could break his heart further, Bokuto turned and left the way he had come.

No one followed after Bokuto as he left the stadium behind him. After all, no one can do something they didn’t mean.

✧

 **ordinary ace**  
Konoha?? (っ˘̩╭╮˘̩)っ [10:42PM]

 **JACK OF ALL TRADES**  
Yo. [10:45PM]

 **ordinary ace**  
I think I fucked up. I think I really fucked it up this time. [10:47PM]

 **JACK OF ALL TRADES**  
Are you injured??? [10:48PM]

 **ordinary ace**  
My heart is. (╯︵╰,) [10:49PM]

 **JACK OF ALL TRADES**  
You’re being dramatic, Bo. [10:50PM]

 **ordinary ace**  
No, I’m serious. [10:51PM]  
I think I broke my own heart. [10:51PM]  
...Keiji has a crush on someone else now. [10:52PM]

 **JACK OF ALL TRADES**  
(⊙_⊙) [10:53PM]  
Well. [10:53PM]  
WELL. [10:53PM]  
It’s just a crush, isn’t it? [10:55PM]

 **ordinary ace**  
So he says. [10:55PM]

 **JACK OF ALL TRADES**  
You can still do something about it. [10:56PM]

 **ordinary ace**  
I don’t really want to interfere. [10:57PM]

 **JACK OF ALL TRADES**  
(￢_￢) [10:59PM]  
Bokuto, is there something going on between him and this new muse? [10:59PM]

 **ordinary ace**  
I don’t know. [11:00PM]

 **JACK OF ALL TRADES**  
If you don’t know, then ASK. [11:01PM]  
Communicate. [11:02PM]  
Do something. [11:02PM]  
You already made the mistake of staying silent once before. There’s no reason for you to do it again. [11:03PM]

 **ordinary ace**  
(っ˘̩╭╮˘̩)っ [11:05PM]  
I’m so scared. [11:05PM]

 **JACK OF ALL TRADES**  
I’m not telling you not to be scared. [11:07PM]  
I’m telling you to be afraid–and then to do it anyway. [11:07PM]

 **ordinary ace**  
You make it sound so easy. [11:08PM]  
Mr. Jack of all Trades. [11:08PM]

 **JACK OF ALL TRADES**  
凸(￣ヘ￣) [11:10PM]  
Koutarou. [11:10PM]  
When was something worth it ever easy? [11:11PM]

✧

The worst part was that neither Bokuto nor Akaashi kept in touch after their meeting at nationals.

Bokuto couldn’t because of the grueling practices he underwent with the MSBY Black Jackals’ training regimen. And then Bokuto wouldn’t because, despite all of Konoha’s goading, he really was too afraid to say anything more. He was bold and unashamed when it came to most things, but being in love was uncharted territory. He was as smitten as he was terrified.

And Akaashi didn’t keep in touch because….

Well. Bokuto didn’t know why. Then again, he kinda deserved the radio silence for dragging Akaashi through an array of heartbreak and hope and back again.

Maybe time apart was for the best.

The days turned to weeks to months. Bokuto continued to hone his skills under the skillful guidance of his coach and with the generous help of his teammates. The Black Jackals continued to scout for new talent, to partake in scrimmages and practice games, to win and lose official ones.

But the thing most constant, most stable, most familiar in Bokuto’s life remained absent and out of reach.

Familiarity. That’s what Konoha had said, hadn’t he? That’s what Akaashi had insinuated too, during one of their nightly video calls. People were attracted to those that felt familiar to them.

 _Was that all there was?_ thought Bokuto as he brushed his teeth one evening. He cupped tap water into his mouth and tilted his head back, gargling. _Am I only pining after Akaashi because he remained the one thing I recognize in an unfamiliar world?_

Bokuto rinsed his mouth and wiped the corners of his lips. He tucked himself into bed and checked his phone, sighing when it remained free of Akaashi’s texts or missed calls. _Is familiarity all there really is to loving Akaashi Keiji?_

Bokuto turned his phone down, tucked the blanket to his chin, and decided that he didn’t care.

He didn’t care about the reasons why he loved Akaashi. He didn’t interest himself in dissecting why he was so attracted to a boy with dark curls and green eyes. He didn’t bother with the why, not anymore. What he wanted to know was the _how._

 _How_ was he going to get the love of his life back? _How_ was he going to make things right between them? _How_ was he going to make Akaashi understand that it had taken him a little longer to realize the truth, but the truth is that he had realized it now?

 _How_ was it even possible to convince someone to love you again when their sights were already set on someone else?

✧

_Attempt #3 by Bokuto Koutarou_

_I still see you in my dreams._

_You and I lay down side by side, watching the clouds pass over our heads and listening to the way the trees sing to one another. We speak with no words, though the backs of our hands brush as we try to decode the uncertainties that keep us apart. There is no one else in this moment but us, two people whose souls were once so intertwined but are now unraveling at a frightening speed._

_They say the moment your brain realizes you’re stuck in a dream state, it’ll do everything in its power to wake you up to the truth. And I know my time is almost up, that the time for sweet hopes are over and the hour of harsh realities are set on the horizon._

_But—if only for a little while—I want to remain suspended in this pocket of time. I want to remain entrapped in this last piece of could-have-been’s. I want to reach out and touch the thread that divides us from past and present, from absolution and penance, from that and this._

_Soon, all this would fall away. Soon, it would disappear just like you. And soon, I would have to let go too._

_“Maybe someday,” I whisper to all that’s left of you. “Maybe in another life._

_“Because for everything you are, everything you aren’t, and everything you’re yet to be: I will always, always, always love you.”_

✧

Even before the uncertainty of their relationship began, Bokuto had already marked the day of Akaashi’s graduation in his calendar.

He had considered abstaining from the ceremony completely. Konoha was too preoccupied with family matters, Washio and Sarukui were busy with their own jobs, and Komi had erroneously scheduled a date at the same time. Though Bokuto would return to familiar faces, he would be without the support and strength of his friends. And he didn’t know if he was strong enough to see Akaashi just yet.

But this was Akaashi. Whether or not something would come out of his romantic pursuits, Bokuto still loved him in more ways than one. To be absent on one of the most pivotal moments of his life would be a mistake that he would not be able to return from.

However, Bokuto did not bring fancy presents for him. He did not bother with the futilities of a bouquet of flowers or the delicacies of a box of onigiri Akaashi loved so much. They were in too much of a stalemate for Bokuto to bring anything other than himself.

Bokuto did not bother to announce his presence. He simply occupied a space in the back of the auditorium, watching the graduation rites unfold ceremoniously. When it was Akaashi’s turn to walk up to the stage, he clapped along with everyone else, making sure that he was neither too loud nor too quiet.

And yet, despite all his attempts at obscurity, Akaashi looked up from where he stood at the stage–and looked directly to where Bokuto was.

And then Akaashi smiled.

Bokuto almost choked from that one look alone. Even from this distance, he could see the relief and joy on Akaashi’s face, could feel his appreciation all the way from the other side of the room. When Akaashi exited the stage, he glanced one last time back at Bokuto before taking his seat once more.

When the ceremony ended, Bokuto waited outside of the auditorium. He caught the moment Akaashi burst through the doors, head turning frantically in search of him, before finding him glued to the wall.

“Aka–” Bokuto began, arms already unfolding. But Akaashi cut him off with a tight embrace, his own arms wrapping tightly around Bokuto’s shoulders as his body crashed against his. Bokuto’s eyes widened, surprise overwhelming him, before he finally hugged Akaashi right back. “Congratulations, Akaashi,” he said against his ear.

“You’re here.” Akaashi pulled away. “You came.”

Bokuto searched his expression. “What made you think I wouldn’t?” When Akaashi opened his mouth, Bokuto shook his head. “Wait, don’t answer that. There are _a lot_ of things that would make you think so.”

Akaashi laughed, and Bokuto melted in the familiarity of it all. He stepped away from Akaashi but did not let go of his shoulders. “Akaashi. Let me walk you home.”

Akaashi smiled wider. “Sure.”

Bokuto smiled back, and the both of them filed out of the building, shoulder bumping against one another and against the other graduates exiting the place. As they made their way to the gates of Fukurodani, Bokuto slid his gaze to the row of gingko trees and concrete benches, the very same lane where Akaashi bared his heart and got scorned for it. Akaashi was also gazing at the same spot, no doubt relieving the day of his heartbreak. Bokuto wanted to brush away the edges of sadness in his expression before he realized that he had come here to do exactly that.

One way or another, whether in the field of love or in the field of friendship, Bokuto would make things right between them.

Except once they had cleared the black gates of their previous academy, the first words out of Bokuto’s mouth were, “How are things going with Miya-san?”

Akaashi’s hands were (quite cleverly) buried in the pockets of his coat. He looked up, brows cresting before falling into a frown. “What? There’s nothing between us. I already told you this.”

His tone was not unkind, but Bokuto felt like one more mistake would make it so. Bokuto looked down, kicking several fallen flowers in his way. “I know,” he said slowly. “But you liked him, didn’t you?”

“Yes.”

“Until now?”

Akaashi stuttered in his tracks, and Bokuto did the same. “Where are we going, Bokuto-san?”

Bokuto gestured around them, pointing to the streets they’ve grown to memorize for the past several years. “I’m taking you home–”

“No, with this conversation.” Akaashi tilted his head to the side. “I think I’ve made it clear where my true affections lie. So what are you really trying to tell me?”

Bokuto groaned and buried his head in his hands. “You don’t always have to be so sharp _and_ blunt, Akaashi!”

“Thought you’d be familiar with my ways by now.”

 _Friends. Familiar._ Bokuto was beginning to hate all the words that began with the letter F. _Fuck._

He straightened, puffing out his chest as he did so. It knocked Akaashi back, and Bokuto cringed, forgetting how much muscle he had accumulated recently. “Oh, god! I’m so sorry!”

Akaashi righted himself, taking one step further away from the edge of the sidewalk. “Good thing there were no cars then. I would’ve died.”

“Oh my god, you would’ve!” Bokuto agreed. He was beginning to panic.

Akaashi waved a hand. “It’s okay, Bokuto-san. I’m still here. I didn’t actually–”

“I’m in love with you, Akaashi Keiji!” Bokuto blurted out, tone higher and louder than his usual.

The rest of Akaashi’s sentences died with a little gasp. His eyes widened as he stared at Bokuto, and in that moment Bokuto knew that he was not a poet, he was not eloquent, and he was not cut out for words the way Akaashi was.

But still he tried.

He took a deep breath, trying to recompose his thoughts. “Akaashi, look. I should have said something sooner, I know, and I’m a fool for bringing this up a year too late. But our time apart made me realize that the rules of attraction are not limited by familiarity or proximity.” He reached down and held both of his hands. “No, I love you because you are Akaashi Keiji, the half of my heart, the better of my soul. The standard criteria for falling in love doesn’t apply to what I feel for you. And for everything you are, everything you aren’t, and everything you’re yet to be: I will always, always, always love you.”

Bokuto paused, trying to gauge Akaashi’s reaction. When he couldn’t glean anything, he lifted both of his hands and pressed them against his forehead. “Please let me take care of you!”

He felt Akaashi’s hands vibrate. When Bokuto looked up, he found Akaashi laughing quietly to himself, face crinkled with his joy. He sighed, “Bokuto-san.”

Bokuto slowly stood up from his hunched position. “Hmm?”

Akaashi gently tore his hands away from him. Bokuto was already folding in on himself, resigned to accept his answer, when Akaashi grabbed the front of Bokuto’s shirt and pulled him forward. Bokuto yelled in surprise, the sound cut short when Akaashi pressed his lips against his.

If he could speak now, Bokuto only had one thing to say. It would just be one phrase, barely a word in and of itself, but he already knew that, for once, it would neither be too much nor too little.

_Oh._

Bokuto quickly caught up, lifting his hand to Akaashi’s cheek as he kissed him back. They smiled against one another, both of them reveling in the reciprocation of their affections.

It was Akaashi who pulled away first, and Bokuto blinked at the sudden loss. He reached up and touched his own lips, as if he could recreate the feel of Akaashi on him. “Wait. Is that a yes? What about Miya-san?”

Akaashi rolled his eyes, but it was a gesture done so fondly that it broke Bokuto’s heart for a different reason altogether. “It was just a crush, Koutarou. It starts and ends there.”

“Huh.” Bokuto let his hand fall to the side, dumb and limp. “Didn’t you two go out on a date?”

“It was a dinner we shared together.”

“Sounds like a date.”

“A friendly one.” Akaashi tucked a strand of his hair behind his ear. “I made my intentions known right from the very beginning, and he was kind enough to understand. We’re still friends, but that’s as far as it goes.”

Bokuto nodded. He was still reeling from the sudden kiss, and the conversation was trickling too slowly into his understanding. “Oh, okay. Wait. What _are_ your intentions?”

Akaashi chewed on his bottom lip. Shyly, he reached between them and took both of Bokuto’s hands in both of his. “That I still love you.” He brought Bokuto’s knuckles to his lips. “And I want to try again if what you implied back at nationals was true.”

Bokuto watched Akaashi kiss the mountains of his hands. “But why didn’t you text me then?”

Akaashi looked up at him through his lashes. “Why didn’t _you?_ ”

“I was too afraid.” Bokuto turned his hands so that they were cupping Akaashi’s face. “I’m not like you, Keiji. I’m not brave enough to put my heart out on the line.”

Akaashi swallowed, and Bokuto thought he saw goosebumps pepper his arms at being called his given name. “But you did anyway, coming here.”

“Because I love you,” said Bokuto honestly, all sense of eloquence and poetry learned disappearing from the forefront of his mind in replace with sheer, unfiltered adoration for the boy before him. One of his hands traveled down and took Akaashi’s own, fingers lacing through his almost shyly. “Can you forgive me for being so dumb? Can we kiss again?”

Akaashi intertwined his own fingers around Bokuto’s. He smiled and tipped his head, a light blush painting the swell of his cheeks. “One question at a time.” He leaned forward. “But my answer is always yes.”

This time, it was Bokuto who kissed him first. He would be a hypocrite to admit this aloud, but maybe the Netflix documentary still held a ring of truth. Because as Bokuto held Akaashi in the safety of his arms, he realized Akaashi tasted as familiar as coming home.

And Bokuto wouldn’t have it any other way.

**Author's Note:**

> UPDATE: here's [the alternative angst ending.](https://tinyurl.com/y235ka26) if, you know, you're keen on reading.
> 
> this one-shot was heavily inspired by my own experiences. the "familiarity" discussion is an actual conversation my friends and i had in our group chat; "for everything you are, everything you aren't, and everything you're yet to be: i love you, i love you, i love you" is an actual line from a poem i gave to someone i loved; and "attempt #3" is an actual piece i wrote and gave to the same person aforementioned when we fell apart.
> 
> thank you to everyone on twitter who voted and convinced me to end this fic on a happy note!!
> 
> [@megfushiguro on twitter](http://twitter.com/megfushiguro) • [@stormhund on cc](http://curiouscat.qa/stormhund)


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